


You're Gonna Miss it All

by Ottermelon



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Angst, Letters, Multi, POV First Person, introspective, my tribute to the best aqours ot3, relationship status: they're all dating but they don't realize it yet, some romantic elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottermelon/pseuds/Ottermelon
Summary: Graduation looms for Kanan, Mari, and Dia. With only a precious few days left to spend together, they're unsure whether they should look back, forward, or elsewhere.So they decide to do all three. At least, that's what Mari wants, anyway.(Thoughts on the third-years' graduation, told in turn from each of their perspectives.)
Relationships: Kurosawa Dia/Matsuura Kanan/Ohara Mari
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	1. Pothole (Kanan)

**Author's Note:**

> happy valentine's day! i'm celebrating both today and my favorite aqours ot3 in the only way i know how: with lots of angst, romantic tension, and facing the reality of growing up and growing apart. those with an ear for emo music may have noticed the title is a reference to one of the more [popular emo albums](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbrUzJlTffs) of the last decade, which has served as the largest inspiration for this ambitious little project. if anyone's a modern baseball fan, expect this fic to be peppered with a few references here and there.
> 
> as always, thanks to [Asallia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asallia/) for invaluable feedback and suggestions on this draft. she's the Third-Years Expert, so please check out her amazing works if you haven't already :) kanan's up first, since she's the easiest for me to write. the other two are a bit more daunting, but it's about time i finished a fic (haha). hope you enjoy part one for now ^^

“A letter exchange?”

“That’s right,” Mari says. She spins to face us, pen in hand, twirling it expertly. Dia and I watch it hop from finger to finger. “Double-spaced, standard margins, 500-word minimum. Due tomorrow.”

Dia blinks, unamused. I take a step back. I barely scraped through those last couple essays of the year. “Didn’t sign up for this, sorry.”

“You’re not going anywhere, Kanan.” Mari sticks her hand out. I stop mid-turn - not like I was actually going to walk away. When Mari has something on her mind, she’ll make sure I’ve heard what it is. No matter how stupid.

“You got 20 seconds.”

Mari puts a finger to her chin. She hums to herself, takes her time. Dia and I exchange a look, and ten seconds pass. I let her ham it up.

“Well.” She points at Dia. “Dia and I already talked about this, so you’re outnumbered.” Her smirk carries its usual mischief.

I put my hands up. “Alright. If you roped Dia into it, you got me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dia pouts.

“Dunno,” I wink at Dia, which only riles her up even more. “Guess you’re pretty weak-willed, so it’s not saying much.”

“Kanan!” Dia’s face goes red, sending me and Mari into a fit of laughter. She clears her throat. She has to wait for us to stop, though, and all the while her face is all bunched up. It’s so cute, it just makes me want to tease her more.

“Just hear Mari out,” Dia grumbles once we’ve calmed down. “She’s only possessed by a good idea every so often.”

Mari turns up her nose. “Should I be offended? Anyway.” She brandishes something in her hand again. This time, she’s holding a set of cute envelopes, glitzed with unnecessary trim and bordering. Right away, I notice their loud colors: turquoise for me, purple for Mari, and crimson for Dia. “Write whatever you want,” Mari explains. “That’s it. No rules. Except…” she trails off.

I take the bait. “Except what?”

“No peeking! Our words to each other are _secret_! Until we graduate.” She shoves the letters towards me. Dia and I take turns picking ours out.

I bounce it up and down in my hands. It’s heavy for paper - probably cardstock. Expensive cardstock. I don’t know what to say, so I settle for what’s on everyone’s mind right now.

“You’re making us write out our goodbyes.”

Mari rolls her eyes. “Don’t say it like _that_! Dia. Explain.” She points at me.

Dia steps in. “We graduate in less than a week. We should keep the general atmosphere as positive as possible, for our sake and for our underclassmen. Mari’s worried. If we try to wrestle with our more…” she scratches at her mole, struggling to find an appropriate word. “... with our reservations, we’re at risk of spoiling the little time we have left.”

“Diaa~” Mari whines, pouting. “Don’t make me look bad! I’m not _worried_.”

“How did I make you look bad? I explained the situation like you asked!” Dia snaps. They glare at each other.

I let them bicker for the time being, while I turn the envelope over. It’s just as gaudy on either side, the gold glitter looping into tiny hearts at all four corners. I’m not gonna buy into this right away. I’m a bad writer, but I think these two can look past that. There’s another problem. “What if I don’t have anything left to say?”

On cue, Dia and Mari look up from their arguing.

“You’re just trying to worm out of it -” Mari starts, but Dia holds up her hand.

“I don’t believe that,” Dia says. Her seriousness stuns me into silence. My mouth opens and closes like a dumb fish.

“W-well -”

“Kanan.” Dia crosses her arms. “We graduate in a week.”

“Oh, she went and said it. With _emphasis_ this time,” Mari teases, loud enough for both of us to hear, but Dia ignores her.

“Pretending we’ve put all our feelings to rest already is an exercise in futility,” she continues. “And, to be blunt, if there’s anything you ever wanted to say to either of us, you can do so here without fear of repercussion.”

“Huh.” The envelope in my hands feels the same. I exchange a look with Mari. She nods emphatically.

“Just don’t say you love me.” Mari winks, putting a finger to her lips. “I’d rather hear that from you two in person.”

Dia rolls her eyes. “Is that convincing enough for you, Kanan?”

A slow nod is all I’ll give them for now. “When are we exchanging these? Don’t wanna BS it.”

Mari perks up. “I’m having a party right after the ceremony. Everyone’s invited, but these are for our eyes only. So let’s do it in secret.” Somehow, she’s made her point, and she steps away from the edge of the roof, pushing through the small gap between me and Dia. When she’s halfway to the stairwell, she suddenly plops herself down on the ground and lays on her back. Dia and I don’t budge. Several seconds pass. Mari opens her eyes.

“What are you two waiting for?” She looks down on us - or maybe it’s up, since we’re standing above her. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

“Um… why?” Dia asks for both of us. Nice one, Dia.

“Why would we lie on our backs and stare at the sky? While a gentle spring breeze comes in from the ocean?” Mari rattles off what’s on all of our minds. “Well, when else are we going to do this? I promise, one of us will find something interesting to say.”

Dia and I share a look. “Your skirt’s riding up,” Dia deadpans.

“Not the point,” Mari retorts. She probably doesn’t even think about fixing it.

Dia and I share another look. “She’s not gonna budge,” I mutter, well within Mari’s earshot.. Still, I indulge Mari, joining her on the ground first, making a point to smooth out my skirt. When I lay down, my head nearly touches Mari’s. Dia mutters something under her breath, but she gives in eventually, just like she always does. We find ourselves in a weird sort of triangle, our heads forming the middle of this bizarre shape and our limbs splaying out everywhere.

No one says a word. Mari was right, of course - there’s a light breeze passing through, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I close my eyes. Listening in this unexpected lull, I pick out Mari’s and DIa’s breathing. Mari gives herself to her own ideas as freely as anyone could. From her easy, even breathing, she’s already half-asleep and having a damn good time doing it. Meanwhile, Dia’s waiting for something to happen. She’s probably aware of the sounds of her own breathing, just like I am, except she actually cares if someone hears her.

Don’t worry, Dia. I’m not gonna judge.

I’m not sure how long we lay there like that. I can tell Mari wants this to be one of those moments that’s suspended in time. My limbs could go numb for all I care. If I close my eyes tightly enough and focus really, really hard, maybe I can memory-hop and live in this nostalgia. It’s so peaceful. Serene. I can pick any moment: Mari’s pinching Dia’s cheeks as they cheese for the birthday girl’s picture. Chika and You begging me for one last sleepover. (Not that they had to go that far. I’d do anything for them.) All the fleeing scenes like this one: the three of us enjoying each other’s company -

Why can’t I land on any of them right now? I know they exist, I know we spent all those “good old times” together. So why’s it so hard to pick out anything we said? My mental replay stops dead in its tracks.

It’s been three years. I’m not someone who counts away the days, but right now I wish I was. I guess graduation is like the ocean, grabbing unsuspecting chumps by the ankles and dragging us away, to hell knows where.

Maybe I can take it all back. In my memories, Dia’s standing in frame, her back to me. Her first-year ribbon flaps helplessly in the wind. I want to tell her it will be alright, but I open my mouth and my words are swallowed up by the void.

Take me back. Let me take it all -

A whisper roars through my ears. My eyes shoot open, and suddenly I shiver. My skin’s clammy. None of us have moved an inch. I genuinely don’t know how much time has passed, and it scares me.

“What’s on your mind, Dia?”

Whether she knows it or not, Mari reached out and snatched me from the collision course I was on. I put a hand to my heaving chest.

“Me?” Dia falls silent. The wind whistles through my ears, carrying the same ocean tang it always has, and always will. While I wait, I catch my breath. Mari and Dia must have noticed my little episode, but they’re just carrying on like usual. I’m a little grateful for that. This round of questioning will come around to me, but I don’t have a single clue what to say. Words aren’t my strong suit.

When Dia breaks the silence, I’m not sure how much time has passed again. “We didn’t get many chances to do this while we were here, did we?”

“This?” I ask, a bit hoarse. We’re not really ‘doing’ anything. “You mean just laze around?”

“Not when you put it that way,” Dia grumbles. “What do you do when you’re idling about?”

I think it over. “Uh, think?”

“You do, Kanan?” Mari pipes up.

“Hey. Rude!” I fire back. Mari and Dia are sent into a giggling fit. I can’t help but go along with it. For a moment, I forget about next week and about this blank paper Mari’s given me.

When we’re done laughing, Dia goes back to the original question. I’m interested to hear what she thinks, and even more interested to see if she’ll be honest about it.

“I have more than a few regrets about my time here. And about ours. But we were always moving forward, having our sights set on the future. In my case, on being student council president. On college entrance exams.

“Before I knew it, I was here, almost three years older. If I’d taken the time to enjoy, or simply just appreciate the moment, maybe this wouldn’t have snuck up on me.”

“Color me shocked,” Mari says, sounding every bit as surprised as I am. “Didn’t think our resident tight-ass would wish for more R&R time.”

“I’m serious!” Dia protests.

“Who says I’m not? Back me up here, Kanan.” Mari wants me to pick a side.

“Uh…” I can practically feel Dia’s irritation sloughing off her. She’s radiating some bad energy. “I kinda get what Dia’s saying. Is there a way to make high school go by slowly?”

“Yeah. Sit in class,” Mari quips.

That gets a laugh from me. “You got me there.”

“I thought you were serious, Mari,” Dia pouts.

“I _was_.”

“Hang on.” I jump in before Mari and Dia start going at it again. “Dia’s right.”

I suck in a deep breath. I still haven’t recovered from my little episode just a couple minutes ago, and now, with both of my friends waiting patiently, I realize that I have to say it aloud. Come on, me. You’ve had to do worse.

“Do you think it’s possible to enjoy a moment if you’re focused on enjoying it?”

What ends up coming out of my mouth surprises even me. When I don’t get an answer, I’m worried I said something dumb. That’s Mari’s job, not mine. “Like, if your number one thought is: ‘I need to have the best time I possibly can,’ then you’ll get in your own way. You’ll sabotage your own happiness. Right?” Being this serious isn’t really my territory. I need to know if what I’m saying is worth listening to.

Several seconds pass. Our breathing is all out of sync now. I’m done trying to explain myself - it just makes everything worse.

“I didn’t know you thought about those things too, Kanan.” Dia’s the first to respond. As the appointed over-thinker, I’m not surprised to hear that from her. Still, it’s reassuring, and a little concerning. Says a lot about myself if I can relate to Dia like that.

“I try not to.” My throat’s dry. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help.

“That’s our dilemma, I suppose,” Dia says. She sounds resigned. When she speaks again, her tone is much softer. “I’m trying my best to enjoy this right now. Giving it my all.”

I laugh wryly. “You think I’ve ruined it just by bringing it up?”

My laugh spreads to Dia. “I’m enjoying myself, in an ironic sort of way.”

I don’t know exactly what she means, but I got Dia to smile. I think that’s good enough for me, and I think I’m enjoying this moment too. I had to think about it for a second, though. That still counts. “How about you, Mari?”

Mari’s laugh is much more sincere. I didn’t know how wound up I was until I hear her voice, melodic and piercing all at once, and the sound unravels the breath I’d been holding. “We should do this more often,” she states, like doing ‘this’ would be that simple.

“I take it that means you’re enjoying yourself as well,” Dia interjects.

“Yep.”

“Good enough for me,” I say. I’m afraid to close my eyes again, so I stare up at the sky. It’s a nice day. A comfortable silence covers us again. The next time Mari says something, she’s changed the subject again.

“Kanan, what’s the first thing you think of when you think about high school?”

I’m caught off-guard. “The first thing -”

“You’ve got three seconds.”

“Wait, what?” I sputter, my mouth hanging open. My mind’s not fast enough - I’m drawing a complete blank, and it stays that way for all of three seconds.

“Time’s up! Your final answer is…?”

“Aqours.”

“And the crowd says…” Mari hums for way too long. I get impatient. “Dia!” she shouts. “You’re the crowd!”

“Since when…?” Dia starts to protest, but trails off. She probably realized it was pointless mid-sentence. “That’s the obvious answer,” she gives in, playing along with Mari.

“ _Yes!_ You’re absolutely right. If you mean ‘both versions’ - our first attempt _and_ Chikacchi’s” Mari nods to herself, like she’s said something groundbreaking.

Our time together in Aqours - yes, both Aqours 1 and Aqours 2 - flashes through my head in a matter of seconds. “Maybe I can just remember the second one?” I laugh dryly. “That one had a better ending. What do you think of that?

“I can answer that with a question,” Dia says. “Do you think our time in Aqours is worth holding onto?”

I frown. “Well...” I turn it over in my head, not getting any closer to an answer.

“I feel like it’s necessary to remember both,” Dia continues when I can’t follow up. “All of it. Even the times we yelled at each other, and pushed each other away. You know why, don’t you?”

I put a hand to my forehead. It’s dirty from being pressed against the ground, and I just end up making things worse. “Well, yeah,” I mutter reluctantly. “I guess if I just pick and choose what I want to remember, it makes the good times feel less earned. Right?”

“Kanan said something smart,” Mari mutters. She sounds like she’s in awe.

“Shut up.”

“I agree,” Dia interrupts before I can go after Mari some more. “You’ve forgiven us for all the times we’ve stumbled, tripped up, or brought you down with us, right? So you should do the same for yourself.”

“You’re so hard on yourself.” Mari adds seamlessly, like she and Dia rehearsed this beforehand. I know they didn’t, but it’s still so uncanny that I almost laugh. “You can’t take the good without the bad. Look at us now: you didn’t lose us, in the end.”

“For now -” I start, but Mari shuts me up by whacking me on the top of the head. “Ow,” I grimace.

“Our first ‘breakup’ - the ending of our own Aqours - was inevitable. But after it was done, even though it was horrible for all of us, I still wanted to forgive you. And that’s exactly what I did. I made the right decision.” she finishes.

I don’t offer up a response. I know they’re both right, but on the other hand, they know that I’m not going to forgive myself right away, just because they told me to. That stuff takes time - something we don’t have.

Mari and Dia let the conversation come to a lull. No one’s intruded on our space up here on the rooftop. It really feels like this isn’t supposed to happen - Chika should come bursting through that door any minute, shattering this fragile, serene silence. But even as I drift into a half-sleep, losing myself in our out-of-sync breathing, nothing happens.

Until Mari decides something else needs to happen, that is.

“You know, Kanan, you haven’t answered the question yet. What’s on your mind?”

My eyes crack open. “That’s no fair,” I mutter. “You just prodded my brain for a couple minutes. Do I really have to say more?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Mari says without a speck of hesitation.

“You do,” Dia chimes in. She’d been awake too, I guess.

I heave a long sigh. The sky above is a dizzying blue. The longer I stare into it, my head spins. I haven’t even thought much about what I’m going to say next, and it comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“I don’t know. It just feels like you two are going to leave me again. Maybe this time, for good.”

I regret it the instant it leaves my mouth. The sky above us is clear. It’s such a nice day, and I’m worried I’ve ruined one of the precious few we have left.

“She said it, Dia,” Mari’s response is overly solemn. I wrinkle my nose.

Dia grumbles to herself. “Rub it in, and I’ll have your head.”

“Five hundred yen is five hundred yen. What should I buy after school?”

I’m sitting up in a flash. “Hey! You two made bets about what I’d say? Behind my back?”

Mari shrugs. She doesn’t bother to move, or even look my way. “Kanan, picking out what’s on your mind is as easy as slapping a baby in the face with a candy bar.”

“Mari, the phrase is ‘taking candy from a baby.’” Dia scowls. I find myself doing the same. Mari butchered that one.

“Who cares? Tomato, potato. Point is. Kanan.” Mari opens her eyes suddenly. My irritation disappears just as quickly. Mari has this uncanny talent of fine-tuning herself to whatever mood she wants, at the quickest turn of phrase or snap of finger. Dia and I usually have no choice but to go along with it, and right now, when she’s staring right through me, is no different. “There’s a lot you want to say to us. Stuff that you haven’t said yet, or that you might be too embarrassed to. Right?”

I open my mouth and close it again. Mari and Dia watch me. I’m bad at keeping secrets, especially from these two.

“I’m giving you that chance, Kanan. You too, Dia. And I’m giving myself that chance.” She closes her eyes again. It’s been a hectic last few months. We haven’t had much time to kick back like this. So seeing Mari content like this feels like I’m watching a video from times gone past. Like it’s a scene that doesn’t belong in our time, an old, buried memento from before we tore each other down and lifted each other back up.

“Kanan,” Dia pipes up. “You have a hard time being honest with us.”

I blink. “Don’t wanna hear that from you, Dia.”

I can practically hear Dia working herself up.

“Now, now, Dia,” Mari soothes. She reaches out and tries to pat Dia on the head, but since their heads are so close to each other, she ends up poking a few places Dia probably doesn’t like: her nose, her forehead, and her ear all get violated. Dia keeps her composure on the surface, but I know she’s seething. When Mari finally finds her target, patting the top of Dia’s head, it’s done more harm than good. “You’ll get your turn,” she finishes.

Dia laughs. Mari and I look at each other, surprised, at how carefree it sounds. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Mari lays back down again. “It’s a rite of passage. I’ll go after Kanan, and since we’re nice, that means you get to go last.”

“Ah, of course. I’m basking in your kindness right now, Mari,” Dia grouses.

“How do you think I feel?” I’m not too hot on revealing one of my biggest insecurities. Mari’s right that both she and Dia know it already, but still. Saying it aloud makes my heart drop. Triggers my fight or flight instinct.

“Kanan, it’s _fine_.” Mari assures me. “Come on, sit. Relax a bit. Isn’t it such a nice day?”

And that’s that. I take my place again, staring up at the sky. This time, none of us seem in any hurry to get up. Maybe if we lay here long enough, we’ll lose ourselves in the endless bright blue abyss above us, and we’ll never have to get up again. Mari’s right: it _is_ a nice day.

* * *

We’re walking down the path from school alone. The sun’s setting. It feels like I’m burning - it’s too picturesque, the pastel light striking Mari’s bright golden hair and setting it on fire. When Dia turns around, about to ask why I’ve stopped, she looks so bright and vulnerable at once.

I whip out my phone and, before either of them have time to react, snap a quick picture. Dia scowls instantly, and Mari whips her head around, having missed it by a split second.

“What’s going on?” Mari asks, looking from me to Dia when neither of us dare to speak up first. Her face is questioning, carrying an innocence that I can’t quite place. It makes me wish that we could just forget about _everything_ and be happier for it. “And why am I not included?”

Instead of answering her, Dia looks out towards the ocean, shimmering in an array of warm colors. I follow her gaze, and Mari does too. We stay like that for a while.

“Think it’s so bad that I’ll be tied down here?” I ask. I’m just throwing it out. Either of them can answer, but neither of them have to.

“Don’t be too hard on little old Uchiura,” Mari tries to assure me. It feels and sounds empty after our little session on the rooftop. “If I could, I’d join you.”

 _If._ That’s a big if.

“It’s not like we’re the only ones you have here,” Dia adds.

I kick against the hard asphalt. My shoe scuffs against the pavement. Not like I’ll be using it for much longer anyway. “Chika wouldn’t appreciate me moping about you two.”

We all fall silent. No one has anything to say to that, and I don’t blame them. Right now, I want to get a good look at Mari and Dia, especially against this beautiful sunset that’s a hometown staple. But if I do, I won’t be able to erase it from my memory. I’d rather have the candid photo I took just a minute ago, imperfections and all, than this.

But we’re still together. But we won’t be soon enough.

“Come on, Kanan.” Dia beckons with a little jerk of her head. “Let’s go.”

I walk a little faster to catch up. The setting sun follows us all the way home, until it’s sunk below the horizon, leaving little clippings of light long after it’s gone.

* * *

_Dia. Mari._

_Where to start? I know I can just text or call you both, but jumping through all these hoops (fancy stationery, cute little envelopes) makes this more permanent. I probably can't take any of this back. Not like I'd want to._

_Really feels like I’m getting outclassed here - both of you know writing’s not my strong suit. But I’ll embarrass myself. Since it’s for both of you._

_Dia._

_I’d do anything for you._

_I mean, except for keeping you from leaving after we graduate. I’ve already been so selfish. What was I_ thinking _? The ‘leader’ of our old group? Give me a break. Chika’s a born leader, but either of you would have been better for the job._

_But yeah. Dia, I’m gonna miss you - yes, even when you’ve got the biggest stick up your ass. Without you, I feel like I can’t slow down and take a breather every once in a while. I won’t get a much-needed reality check, or just have someone to tell me I’m being a bitch._

_You’ll miss me too, right? It might be selfish for me to say this, but I guess that’s what this whole damn letter is for. So I’ll just say it:_

_You need me, don’t you?_

_You need me in ways that you can’t explain, because I’m cold-hearted and selfish and I push people away while spouting this bullshit that it’s “for the best,” even when it just hurts everyone involved. You most of all. I might do it again, you know. Isolation and distance do horrible things to me._

_Sorry. I’m getting off-track again._

_Well, despite all that, you need me. It drives me nuts sometimes, and I tell myself that I should just accept it. Knowing that, I just do the opposite. Which is not accepting it, at all. Told you, it drives me up the wall._

_Anyway, I’ll leave it at that. When I’m older, I’ll look back and see how dumb I was that I didn’t just_ appreciate _my daily dose of Dia when she was around. Or I’ll still be the same old me, not changing a single bit. Who knows?_

_Mari._

_I don’t know what I’ll do without you._

_Well, really, I do. I’ll probably live on autopilot until you come back. The days will blur together, time will pass quicker. I’ll blink and a few years will go by - suddenly, we’re all a bit older and a bit less close._

_But I’m going to miss fucking around with you, and pissing Dia off together, and making a forbidden rendevous to your stupid rich front yard every so often._

_I hate saying this, because it makes me seem like a huge sap. I’m not supposed to be the emotional one of the group. These things shouldn’t bother me - I’m supposed to accept it and move on. But I bared my soul to Dia, so it’s only fair._

_When you smile at me, it makes me want to wrap my arms around you and never let go._

_I mean, it’s less simple than that. Of course I love your smile when you’re enjoying yourself. But when you’re sad, you still try and put it on. I can’t stand it - not that it’s bad. It just hurts me to see you hurting, and it hurts me to think that you’re trying to bear it all on your own._

_Isn’t that the whole damn reason we made up in the first place? To support each other, and promise that we’ll never_ really _be alone?_

_God, we’re just a dandy gang of three idiots, aren’t we. Haven’t learned a damn thing._

_I’m kidding, of course. We’ve learned enough to keep us afloat so far._

_When I take the boat out into the bay and look at our shitty little hometown, I’ll think of you two, and I’ll try not to think that maybe, just maybe, I’m getting left behind._

_Because both of you will come back. Right?_

_Or maybe you’ll both show up in Mari’s disgusting pink helicopter and take me away from here._

_I think graduating is supposed to be sad, more than anything else. And I'm a victim of it too. I haven't cried about it yet, but I feel it when I look around and see everyone hanging out. There're these little moments where we all realize our time's coming to an end._

_It's this horrible, horrible twisting in the pit of my stomach that makes me want to stop the whole world. I think we all feel it, and we're all really good at hiding it._

_Yeah, bet you're surprised about that one._

_The crying will come later, I know. I'll wake up in the middle of the night from the happiest dream I've had, knowing that some of you have seen how big and scary the world can be. While I haven't._

_But when you think of me, don't think about that. Don't think about me crying - my crying face isn't great to look at. Yuck._

_Think about how, despite how much I've wronged you both, you still love me. And I still love you._

_That has to count for something. Sometimes, I feel like it's all I got._


	2. Hiding / Two Good Things (Mari)

I have a confession to make.

I asked Kanan if she had things left unsaid. Things she wanted to write down, things that’ll hit us harder when we’re already on a plane away from Japan. I’m so sure she does. I’ll read it and I won’t stop the waterworks as the poor passenger next to me shrinks -

Right. I’m missing the point. My confession is:

I have things to say to them too! I’m doing this for my two besties who couldn’t be honest if Chikacchi put a gun to their heads, sure. But I’m also doing it for me. Myself.

Here’s number one:

_ Bullshit! You fucking miss me! _

There. I feel better now. A bit. I haven’t written it down yet, so it’s still not really  _ out there  _ out there, if you catch my drift.

As for what that means, or why I want to phrase it like that, I think it’s a pretty timeless message. It applied when we abruptly disbanded Aqours 1.0 our first year. It applied when I had to leave them, and to this day I’m still not entirely sure what happened between them when I was gone.

And it’ll apply four years down the road, when I step off the landing pad and they’re standing by to greet me. Maybe it’ll be all smiles at that point, but I’m sure there’ll be a feeling of betrayal too. Like that wasn’t supposed to happen again, just because we promised it wouldn’t. Even though there’re these things called “the real world” and “different life paths” that might think otherwise. Y’know, nebulous, vague concepts that every teenager wants to reckon with but can’t really because they don’t have the perspective to. And yet we’re barreling right towards them all the same.

How stupid is that?

So, yeah, the whole letter thing was my idea. I’m not gonna tiptoe my way around that. I wouldn’t have proposed it if I thought Kanan and Dia weren’t down, though. We all have that fear of separation bottled up inside of us. It’s always been that way, and even after we’ve poured our hearts into these letters, I know we’ll still have so many unshakeable regrets that we’ll carry always.

But in the best-case scenario, we’ll have these words to carry with them. And in the worst? Well, maybe this’ll be cathartic. The equivalent of a good old “scream-into-your-pillow” session, or giving someone a good slap. And I could definitely use some alternatives to slapping.

I’ve already jumped through a few hoops to set us up for success. I’ve spent some time at the stationery store, looked up good design tips, and even watched a couple videos on calligraphy. Will I use that when I’m writing? Probably not. Was it mildly interesting? Hell yeah it was.

Anyway, the letters look good. The presentation’s there. All that’s left is to write.

Now, I trust Dia and Kanan fully. Dia’s already fully committed. I doubt she’d keep a regular writing schedule, but she’s good with words. She doesn’t need me to hawk her.

Kanan, though… Yeah, she’ll probably drive herself nuts over what to say and draw a complete blank until the night before our graduation. Maybe she’ll just sort of spill it all out in a sleepless, sloppy mess the night before, and it’ll be nice and sentimental. Riddled with errors, maybe, but sentimental nonetheless.

But that’s only what would happen if I left them to their own devices. Luckily, I came prepared for that too. I’ve got a plan.

You see, you can’t turn on creativity like a faucet. You gotta be in the right mood.

That mood? Last-minute panic.

Kanan needs it, I’m sure. Dia won’t, but she won’t mind being along for the ride. She couldn’t resist spending time with her two faves.

As for me, I can’t say I have the clearest idea of what to write. So naturally, our combined unease and not-knowing will cause a chemical reaction, leaving us with enough inspiration for each of us to spare! With some energy lost as heat, of course. That’s how it goes.

...I hope.

* * *

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ good morning, my lovelies! _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ It’s 4 in the afternoon… _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ and now for our daily segment that i like to call: Mari’s Advice Corner! _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ This ‘daily segment’ is news to me. If you’re just going to flood this group with low-resolution pictures again, I have much more valuable uses of my time. Thank you very much. _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ i beg to differ, dia dearest ;) memes are the highest form of communication. i’ll make sure to heap it on! _

**_diver_diva:_** _so_ _what wisdom does our goddess Mari have in store for us today?_

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ i’m glad you asked, Kanan! I think it’d be great to leave some #inspiration here for our little passion project. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ Mari, I swear, if you send another picture of a cat dabbing with the caption “literally nothing, just vibing,” I’m going to leave this group. _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ you memorized that one down to a T, tho… _

**_diver_diva:_ ** _ i didn’t really know what that one meant, but i felt it _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ anyways! If there are no more questions, it’s Advice time. _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ it’s in two parts today >:3 _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ first, i need to share this absolute banger  _ [ _ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ne-YkM0ozgk _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ne-YkM0ozgk)

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ second! _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ i know none of us are Pro writers here, but here’s a good writing tip regardless: talent borrows, genius steals. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ That’s actually a half decent reminder. I could use a bit of inspiration like that… _

**_diver_diva:_ ** _ am i supposed to know what that means? _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ dammit, Kanan… _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ It means that you don’t have to worry about making your work ‘original.’ _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ To some extent, every piece of art derives from another that came before. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ So if there’s something out there that inspires you, don’t be shy about implementing it. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ Just don’t copy and paste it. _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ well said, dia-chan! i better see some song lyrics in your letters. even better if you print them out and paste them directly! _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ do you get it now, kanan? _

**_diver_diva:_ ** _ yea, a bit.. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ Besides, these aren’t exactly going to be seen by anyone else. Much less published. _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ A sentimental approach might not be so bad. _

**_meme_queen_69:_ ** _ aww, is dia getting emotional already? _

**_kurosawa_dia:_ ** _ Bite your tongue, cur. _

* * *

Mama and Papa have gone to bed. The staff’s done for the day. I’ve got everything set up in the most secluded corner of the penthouse, just to make sure we don’t wake anyone up with our antics. I sent out the texts about an hour ago. I didn’t get a response, but I know they’ll come. All that’s left is to wait.

When we were younger, Dia and Kanan would concoct the wildest plans to get me out of here. It made me proud, in a way - that I had friends who’d stick their necks out that far for me. Mama and Papa used that against them, of course. Something about them being  _ ‘bad influences’ _ or whatever.

Yeah, as if. If anyone’s the bad influence, it’s me: coaxing Dia out of her shell and making her do things she normally wouldn’t. Enabling Kanan’s stupidity - when I’m in a good enough mood to do so, I mean. 

Really, if Mama and Papa stopped seeing me as their perfect daughter for just one second, they’d realize my Bad Influence status was guaranteed from the start. I’m meant for other things. Fancy galas, stuffy business meetings, big money and big business. That shit is  _ ruthless _ . I’ll get eaten alive if I’m not at least a  _ bit _ selfish. For Dia and Kanan, they’ll only know what it’s like from the stories I’ll tell them.

Point is, I’ve already seen a lot more of the world than they have. Even then, I’d trade my future for Kanan’s in a heartbeat.

I don’t know if she’d do the same for me.

This place is way too big for me. It’s echoing and empty, and my thoughts have too much room to bounce and careen off the walls, slamming right back into my head with the force of a freight train. I should be ready to live in places like this when I get older, but I think there’s room for at least a  _ little _ bit of resentment.

I’ve never complained about this to anyone, since they’d scoff and say “rich girl problems.” That’s definitely true, but it doesn’t change the ache in the depths of my heart. It doesn’t change how alone I am in this house.

I’m sure Dia and Kanan have caught onto it, though. It’s why they never point out the grand entryway or the lavish decorations, and why they show up so often to take me out, if only for an hour or so. I can’t always hide the relief I feel when I see the flashes of light that pull me out of here.

In the gaping silence, I can hear the door open. It’s Dia, who, of course, turns up first. I hear her whispered greeting in the landing, even though no one’s there to meet her. Her careful, measured steps tell me exactly when she’s coming. I think about hiding behind the door to scare her, but I’m too caught up in the wishy-washy details to go through with it. When I look up, she’s there, poking her head through the doorway. She’s got bags under her eyes - too many for someone our age. Still, she’s happy to see me - I’m sure of it.

“Did you bring what I asked?”

Reluctantly, she holds up a plastic bag from the convenience store. “Right down to the amount.” She joins me at the table, the plastic bag at her side for both of us to see. Inside are several cans of store-bought coffee, which run the gauntlet from black, bitter brews to sugary mixtures that are more like desserts than coffee drinks.

“ _ Wonderful! _ ” I clasp my hands together. “Even if we wanted to sleep at some point tonight, we’ll be so jittery we won’t be able to!”

Dia side-eyes me. “I can’t say I share your excitement.” She still eyes the cans with interest as she sets them down on the table, and the cans spill and topple over each other inside the bag. “I brought my own sleeping bag, just in case.” She turns, revealing a puffy bag slung over one shoulder. That, combined with her loose-fitting pajamas, make me wonder how she’s going to get anything done in that getup.

“Dia, Dia, Dia…” I tut. “You’re not getting any sleep tonight.” I wink, putting a finger to my lips.

She’s not having it, of course, countering my affection with a cold stare. “Does that mean you’re going to tell me why we’re meeting now, of all times?” Dia asks. “When we still have school tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you can guess.” I start digging through my school bag. “How’s your letter coming along? I fully expect to cry when I read it.”

Dia’s brow furrows, and she looks away. She leaves my question hanging, which is as much of an answer as I need.

“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t started yet!” I gasp. “Whatever shall I do? I’m the only one pouring my heart out here…” I fake a sniffle for good measure as I grasp at my pencil box.

“You proposed the idea less than 24 hours ago,” Dia grumbles. “I doubt you’ve made much headway on it yourself.”

“Guilty as charged.” I stick out my tongue, prompting an eye-roll from Dia. I take the chance to open up the box on the table, revealing a colorful selection of pens for us to pick from. There’s even a couple of fountain pens in there for good measure, just in case Dia wants to get really sappy. “I thought we could work on them together. Writing begets writing, right? I think Shakespeare said that.”

“I really don’t think he did.”

“Well, now  _ I _ said it.”

Dia scowls. I’m sure she knows better than to bicker with me over fake quotes, a suspicion which is confirmed when she opens her mouth again. “Sure, but…” She glances around the room. “Writing them out in the same room? Within five feet of each other? This just defeats the purpose of not looking before graduation.”

“Uh-uh.” I wag a finger at Dia. “Only if you’ve got wandering eyes.” I puff out my chest and send Dia my best wink. She rolls her eyes again. “It adds a bit of suspense and thrill to this affair, no? Imagining what’s running through your head as you twirl your pen in your hands… That moment when a realization shows on your face and you hurry to scribble it down…” I clasp my hands together, sighing wistfully. “Ah, the joys of youth…”

“Only you would come up with this idea, Mari,” Dia says as she watches me gesture. She’s smiling, which is all I wanted her to do when she got here. “I don’t think I can argue with that.”

“I don’t mind if you have to call it at some point, but you have to write at least a little bit.”

Dia chews on her lip. “I want to, but I don’t want to force anything either.”

“Well, are you feeling it? Are you in the mood?”

“For writing? Maybe. I suppose we don’t have that much time. Making good progress tonight might be beneficial in the long run.”

Hearing that makes me happy; it means I had the right idea in forcing their hands. “Ah, everything’s already going to plan! Now, if my guess is right, Kanan should be here soon to put the rest of my grand scheme in motion.”

“Wait, what plan? Don’t tell me you and Kanan are plotting something-”

Right on cue, the door swings open, and Kanan’s there with 2 stacks of 6-pack energy drinks. I jump out of my seat at the same time that the excitement is wiped from Dia’s face.

“Kanan! So glad you could make it,” I feign surprise. Kanan plays along, setting the bright blue boxes right where all of us can reach them.

Dia’s not having it, looking from me to Kanan and back again.

We beam at her.

She doesn’t move an inch.

The silence is deafening, but I’m not going to cave first.

Finally, reluctantly, Dia points accusingly at the small pile of energy drinks. “What are those doing here?! I thought I was in charge of the caffeinated drinks!”

“Oh, you were.” I feign innocence. “And so was Kanan.”

“But… but…” Dia sputters. I can practically see her mind working overtime, and she still hasn’t put the pieces together.

What better way than to show her?

“Ready, Kanan?” I reach for the nearest Red Bull and crack it open. Kanan makes a show of doing the same for her canned coffee. With a flourish, I tilt the can over into the nearest glass, which is already laden with ice cubes. A rush of clinking, crackling, and fizzling follows suit, and the sounds alone send a rush of adrenaline through me. Kanan doesn’t miss a beat, pouring her coffee into the glass. The concoction turns a lovely caramel - a fizzy, bubbly, caffeine-injected caramel. Kanan and I grin manically.

I’m having way too much fun with this. I’ll be the first to admit that.

Dia’s staring the whole time. Her confusion gradually gives way to shock and disbelief, as her mouth falls open and hangs there. She doesn’t say anything, though, which gives me and Kanan more time to carry out our little mad science experiment. Soon, we have three glasses of sugar and caffeine sitting in front of us. The empty cans are already piled up in the plastic bag. Several more moments pass before Dia finally regains enough composure to protest.

“Surely, you can’t be serious.” Dia says. She can’t decide whether to look at us or at the mixtures we just Frankensteined.

“Oh, I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.” I’m the first one to swipe up my glass, swirling it around and inspecting it closely. “We’re going to chug these Red Bulls.”

“Red Bulls mixed with coffee,” Dia corrects me in that way she’s so privy to. It’s the only thing she can do, since she doesn’t have any other rebuttal. She reaches out slowly. When she picks up the glass, she gingerly holds it at arm’s length, like it’s going to lash out and bite her. She takes a cautionary whiff and promptly gags. “This is repulsive! I can’t drink this.”

Meanwhile, Kanan and I clank our glasses together giddily. We share a look. “Come on, Dia. If you say no, you’re gonna look back on this and think to yourself: ‘Wow, I should’ve chugged a couple cans of Red Bull with Mari and Kanan that night.’” To prove my point, I tilt my drink back and start downing it. The fizziness assaults my tongue, and the coffee combined with the Red Bull makes for a bitter, acidic, yet sugary medley. Dia’s right, it’s horrendous. As much as I hate to admit it, though, it’s hardly the first time I’ve mixed caffeine and energy drinks together.

Dia watches in horror, her lip curled and her nose wrinkled. I’m sure she’s only still watching out of morbid interest, like we’re trainwrecks unfolding on a movie screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kanan shrug and get to work on hers.

I can’t down the whole thing in one go, though. I might need the rest of it later tonight, when I’m running low on steam and my eyes have been open for eighteen hours straight. The concoction is cloying and lingers in the back of my throat long after I’m done drinking.

“See?” I manage without coughing, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “That’s the good shit.”

“I think you enjoyed drinking that even less than I enjoyed watching you.” Dia retorts. “That makes me feel miles better about partaking in this… this debauchery.”

“You’re being dramatic. It’s not that bad.”

Right on cue, Kanan hunches over and starts coughing violently, and her half-finished drink comes close to toppling out of her hands. Dia looks at her coldly, then back to me.

“...It’s one of the joys of youth?” I try.

Dia sighs. “Loathe as I am to admit it, you’re right. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.” She picks up her glass again, eyeing it hesitantly. Several moments go by while she works herself up. She looks up after some time, flushing. “Now I’m self-conscious about it.”

“We’re waiting.” I bat my eyelashes at Dia for good measure. “We’re not gonna start writing until you give it a shot.”

Dia takes a few more deep breaths. She screws her eyes shut. We watch with great interest. Then, in one gloriously clunky motion, she knocks back the glass.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” I start the necessary chant, and Kanan joins me without hesitation. Dia keeps at it for all of three or four seconds until she’s had enough. She slams the glass back down, panting heavily. Her unfocused eyes stare into nothing, and for a moment I’m worried that this is too much for her fragile heart to take.

“I don’t know how to describe that,” she mutters. “Where to even begin?”

“It’s awful,” I offer.

“It sucks.” Kanan pitches in helpfully.

Dia looks back and forth between us, then back to the drink in her hand. She releases it like it’s on fire. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

* * *

I didn’t expect everyone to start throwing their words onto the paper, but the going is still pretty slow. I’m no exception to that. We don’t exchange many words, but I’m still distracted - I find myself staring at Dia and Kanan more than I normally do.

Kanan’s not used to putting this much effort into her writing - this is probably closer to an essay than she signed up for. She’s giving it her all, though, scrunching her face up and tapping her pen restlessly against the side of her head. The whole spectacle. I’d help her, but, you know. She’s on her own. If she asked, though… Maybe I’d give her a pointer or two.

Dia’s less animated about her process. Sometimes she interrupts the silence to make sure a sentence flows nicely, and I help her the best I can. She glances at her mostly-full glass every now and again, but doesn’t even attempt to give it another shot.

My eyes hurt. Really, it’s my entire head that hurts, a dull ache that prods me periodically, telling me to turn in for the night. But my heart’s racing. It’s exactly the combination of exhaustion and energy that I signed up for.

My head’s killing me, too. There’s that. Nobody’s really in the groove, or in the flow, or whatever it is the cool kids say when they talk about writing a lot. Either way, it’s up to me to do something.

“Can I run something by you two?”

Neither of them so much as look up at first. Kanan’s the first to, all bleary-eyed and unfocused. “Hm? What’s up?”

“Is it something you’re planning on putting in your letter?” Dia, perceptive as always, quirks an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” I wink.

Dia sighs. “So much for keeping it close to the chest,” she says, all judgmental yet resigned. Still, I’m sure she’s not against the idea.

“I want you to hear this. Just so you can get a feel for the tone of my letter. It’s only a couple lines. The sneakiest of sneak previews.” I scan my stationery up and down, though it’s still mostly blank. What I want to say isn’t on there yet.

“Shoot.” Kanan shrugs. “Maybe I can steal it if you don’t like it.”

“’Talent borrows, genius steals,’ right, Kanan?” Dia side-eyes her.

“You got me.” Kanan puffs out her chest. “I’m the genius. Hit us with it, Mari.” They turn to me expectantly.

I take a deep breath, smoothing out the imaginary words on the paper. With my best chest voice, I can give as much self-importance as I need to this grand statement.

“‘You fucking miss me!’”

And I’m promptly met with silence. Naturally, they’re both more than a little confused.

“What?” Is all Dia can muster.

“Why do you want to say that?” Kanan finishes for her.

When I was gone, there were lots of times where I felt like I was desperately holding on to our old feelings. All of the pure, well-intentioned, stupid feelings we’d had when the three of us joined hands for that first time.

I say they’re stupid because that’s what they are. I guess I’d use “naiveté” if I wanted to be nice about it, but I’m really not that nice.

I didn’t know when I was coming back.

I don’t say any of that, though. Instead, I plaster on a smile and say:

“Because you do. And you will.”

* * *

When I flick on my phone to look at the time, I’m blinded by the intensity that is the 20% brightness setting. My lock screen is a picture that Kanan took while I wasn’t looking a couple weeks ago, with her and Dia cheesing for the camera. It’s really cute, and I had to do them justice by giving the photo the attention it deserves.

It’s some ungodly hour. My phone says it’s “3:24 A.M,” but I feel like the actual time doesn’t even matter. What matters is how my mind lags behind everything I do, how I go for a drink of water and don’t register the condensation on the tips of my fingers for a few seconds. How the words on the paper in front of me swim and waver on the page. Still, I think I’d be restless if I tried to turn in for the night.

“Did either of you check out the songs I linked earlier?” I’m thumbing through our group chat, but Kanan and Dia didn’t have anything to say about my so-called “inspiration.”

Dia is suddenly focused on her blank stationery. “I wasn’t in the mood for heavy metal. That wouldn’t have helped my headache.”

“I thought it was going to make me feel like shit,” Kanan puts in with a sheepish smile. “So I sorta glossed over it.”

“Oh, come on!” I pout, throwing my hands up in the air. “You two wouldn’t know good taste if I slapped you in the face with it.” I open up my most recent playlist. A heavily saturated, pixelated photo headlines the list that follows, mostly comprised of songs where someone complains about something. Exactly how I like it.

Kanan and Dia exchange a worried glance with each other. “This is what’s happening now, isn’t it?” Kanan says.

“Well, now I can force you two to listen.” I wink. “Don’t worry, it’s not heavy metal. Dia. I put a lot of thought into this.” I scroll for a while in silence, while Dia and Kanan fiddle aimlessly with their pens. No writing is getting done right now. I’m already hooked up to the Bluetooth speaker in the room, so once I find it, the song starts up without much delay.

The intro, if you can call it that, lurches forward on the back of some shaky vocals and a lone guitar. Kanan perks up, while Dia frowns, surely picking apart everything she doesn’t like so far. The song’s in English, and I picked it out in part because it’s not  _ that _ hard to understand. Our English proficiency is good enough, even Kanan’s. I’d call it serendipitous.

_ It’s been three whole years of me thinking ‘bout you everyday _

_ Sometimes for hours, sometimes in passing - _

“Wow, his voice is really whiny.” That’s Kanan, offering a piece of sage wisdom.

“Shut up, Kanan. That’s the point. It’s part of the  _ aesthetic _ .”

“Really?”

“ _ Yes _ . Listen to the lyrics!”

The song’s on full tilt now – the treble on the guitars is cranked up all the way. The singer harmonizes with himself on the chorus, which means double the whininess. It’s perfect, though - it just makes me want to scream the lyrics along with him.

_ I never thought that I, oh I would see the day _

_ Where I’d just let you go, let you walk away _

_ Go ahead and walk away. _

“...Damn.” Kanan’s incredulous look is gone. She might really be impressed.

“Right? What did you think, Dia?”

I’m met with silence. When Kanan and I look over, Dia’s head is bowed, and her shoulders shake almost imperceptibly.

“Oh my God, are you  _ crying _ ?” I ask, incredulous.

“No!” Dia scrubs at her eyes, and Kanan and I share a look of disbelief.

“I mean… I mean…” Dia sputters. She finally looks up after several more pointless seconds of hiding her face, and Kanan and I can see clearly the film of tears that obscure the brightness of her eyes. “I came here to put my feelings onto paper. I wanted to keep it all there, not…” she gestures with open hands to her dripping eyes, “ _ here _ . I didn’t come here to  _ cry _ .”

I’m at a loss for words. Kanan and I can only stare. Dia wipes uselessly at her eyes, then speaks up again.

“This is too much. I’m not ready to deal with this.”

I certainly wasn’t either. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing. I don’t like seeing Dia cry – shocker, I know – and I like  _ making _ her cry even less. I can’t do much more than gawk helplessly, and I kind of hate myself for it.

Kanan crawls over and wraps up Dia in a hug from behind. They rock back and forth as Kanan snuggles her head into Dia’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she murmurs. I almost miss it, an intimate whisper that’s not quite meant for them, like she threw it out for the wind to catch.

Dia lets Kanan embrace her, leaning back and into the contact a little bit. She closes her eyes, and the music takes center stage again. The lead guitar jumps out in front, and its tone tells the whole story. It’s a bit twangy and almost caustic, just like the vocals it’s meant to emulate.

“You’re not joining us, Mari?”

I’m not really sure who said that. Something else catches me off-guard - it’s the ease with which they make contact with each other. It’s fluid - natural, even. As I watch, Dia’s hand clasps Kanan’s and neither of them so much as bat an eye.

Is it weird to say that I feel left out?

“Mari?”

Before I have a chance to spit out those pesky little insecurities, I force myself to go for that Red-Bull-plus-coffee shotgun marriage again. I take another long drink. When I put it down, they’re still staring. I don’t feel any better after downing that, but I put on a brave face and crawl over to them. Instead of making it a normal group hug, I go for the full-frontal assault, lunging right at Dia.

They don’t realize what’s going on until we’re all halfway toppled over, and we go down in a tangle of limbs and playful shrieks. When the dust settles, Kanan and I are latched onto Dia’s shoulders, clutching on to her with grave force. I’m pretty sure we were all laughing at some point, but we’re certainly not laughing now.

“Should’ve seen that one coming.” Kanan breaks the silence.

“I regret everything,” Dia mutters, staring up at the ceiling.

“Now, now,” I jump in. “I love us with all my heart. You two are denser than a brick wall, so I have to resort to drastic measures sometimes. This is the farthest I’ll go before I ask both of you to marry me.”

Dia starts. Her hand, wrapped around my shoulder, clamps down even tighter. “Don’t say such things.”

“I’m serious,” I murmur, nuzzling into the crook of Dia’s neck. She’s warm and probably more than a little flustered. “Back me up here, Kanan.”

“We’re a bit young for that, yeah?” she offers.

“ _ That’s _ your primary concern?” Dia’s incredulous.

“You know how to make a girl wait,” I put in, pouting.

“Well, what’s yours, Dia?” Kanan shoots back, neatly avoiding what I said.

Dia’s quiet for a bit. The last guitar fades abruptly – a fitting whimper to end the song. Silence rushes in to take the place of the music, and I’m left to wonder what Dia means. I already have a bit of an idea, but I want to hear it from her.

“...Maybe,” she finally says.

“Maybe?” Kanan repeats, mirroring my confusion.

“Maybe what?”

Dia grumbles something unintelligible, though I should be close enough to hear. When she answers, it’s shaky and uncertain, a sort of preemptive regret. “...Maybe if you two were better to me. I’d actually consider it,” she murmurs.

She’s so red. I can’t see her, but there’s no way she can’t be mortified after letting that slip. Normally I’d make fun of her, but I want to preserve this moment. Sort of like what Kanan talked about the other day.

To that end, I swoop in before Kanan can say something stupid and ruin it.

“Well, in that case, let’s lay here for a bit. See how much you like it.”

I’m fully confident that they’ll let me indulge my childish, immature wish. And they do. Dia brushes her fingers across my shoulder, the sort of natural contact that I envied from her and Kanan just moments before. Kanan nestles closer to her, and in the moment that she catches my eye, I think she’s a bit appreciative of how I decided to handle it. I could fall asleep to the sounds of our even breathing, with that song quietly filling in the empty spaces of the room on loop.

If this were any other night, that’s probably what would have happened. Naturally, with all that caffeine, sugar, and chemicals injected into our collective bloodstream, that’s not happening. When we crawl back to our respective spots to pore over our letters once again, it’s like an admission of defeat. This jittery, anxious fate is one that we’ve brought upon ourselves, but I can’t say I regret it. Somehow, it might even be a little fitting.

Now my head’s hurting worse than ever.

* * *

_ There are two good things in my life. _

_ I’m not one for sentiment. Usually. I mean, I made fun of Dia for being sentimental the other day, but she’s not the only one. She just makes the most conscious effort to hide it. You hide it too, Kanan, but you’re so repressed that you probably don’t even realize it. _

_ Sometimes I take a step back and think: ‘I’m going to remember this moment.’ Not because it’s particularly special, or because something incredible happened. I just think I will, and most of the time, I will. _

_ I can’t stop thinking about what you said on the rooftop, Kanan. That I’m getting in my own way because I’m so damn focused on making these last few days as memorable as possible. _

_ It feels like our lives could be a movie, really. One that makes you roll your eyes and think: ‘Ah, the joys of youth.’” _

_ When I think about that, how could I NOT bend over backwards to make sure we go out with a bang? _

_ Oh, and Kanan. I also know about that picture you took as we were walking home from school. I know you feel the same. Maybe it’s all hopeless, and we’re all complicit in letting the time pass us by. _

_ Cute and colorful as this stationery is, there’s not that much space to write on it. Unless you’re Dia. Your handwriting is compact, neat, and elegant all at once. Normally this is the part where I’d say “just like you,” but I don’t think you’d appreciate being called “compact” and “neat.” _

_ You are neat, but in the sort of “I think you’re neat” way. Let me put it a different way. _

_ Remember all those countless nights, where I told you I loved you? _

_ I don’t think I said it enough. You might have forgotten by now. _

_ I said it when I thought no one else was listening. Like hearing it from myself would be enough for all of us. I said it when you were just out of earshot, when I thought I could communicate my feelings just by staring at the backs of your heads. Like it was some form of telepathy. That involved my eyes. _

_ I said it in the depths of my heart, and it climbed up and to the front of my throat until I forced it back down again. _

_ Isn’t that really selfish? It’s something that someone who thinks high school lasts forever would do. And that’s exactly what I thought. _

_ I guess if I had to rank how selfish each of us are, the order would be something like: _

  1. _Kanan_
  2. _Me_
  3. _(Kanan and Me, repeated 50 times over)_
  4. _Dia_



_ Dia, you’re too good for us. _

_ I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I still think it’s important to say it. You know what those two good things in my life are. It’s both of you. _

_ Kanan, what I’m about to say might come off as me being an ass. It might make you feel like I don’t believe in you enough, or that I still haven’t forgiven you for being an idiot all those times. But it’s something I can’t avoid any longer, and I just want you to think about it as much as I have. _

_ I’d trade my future for yours, but I don’t know if you’d do the same for me. _

_ We occupy different corners of the world. For so many wonderful years, our corners were allowed to overlap. _

_ Now that it’s almost over, it feels less like an overlap and more like a passing. Like we’re two points in space that just so happened to intersect, due to some cosmic forces or whatever. _

_ I’ve lived here for so long, but I could probably play back our time together here in a matter of seconds. It doesn’t feel like eighteen years, is what I’m trying to say. Isn’t that wild? How eighteen years can go by just like that? _

_ If I told both of you that I loved you now, you’d both yell at me and tell me to stop living in the past. But who cares? I don’t think there’s anything else I can do. I can’t help it. _

_ Here’s what I mean. You become aware that you’re reading this right now, and that you’ll never get these moments back. Once you’ve processed the fact that these are real, honest-to-god seconds that are ticking by, that’s it. Those moments that you’ve processed are in the past already. And once you realize that, you realize that your life will pass you by just the same. No one cares about us more than ourselves. _

_ What am I trying to say? _

_ Well, I love both of you. So much that it makes my heart hurt. So much that I want to come back to this stupid little town in four years and take you both away. So much that I want to scream ‘You fucking miss me!’ at our past and future selves all at once. _

_ Maybe you’re both meant more for each other? Dia’s going away, too, but she has long-term plans to stay in this town. It’ll be easier to keep in touch. You might not have to fly thousands of miles just to see me. And for what? That might just make the distance between us feel even less traversable. _

_ I’ve spent so much time immersing myself in these idyllic fantasies. Me and Kanan taking Ruby out for a night on the town when she turns 20, and then Dia literally killing us when she finds out about it. Us getting older together. I need my faves around to at least keep me in check a bit. Always. _

_ With that all said, the three of us might as well date. _

_ In a perfect world, I’d’ve said as much a thousand times over. But honestly? You two might be better for each other than you are for me. _

_ Dia, I want you to promise you never get hurt by anyone as much as we hurt you. I know that’s rich (haha) coming from me, but really. I mean it. That’s what I mean when I say I love you, and that’s why my love for you hurts as much as it does. _

_ Maybe you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t care at this point. I’m not gonna hold back, so I’m gonna be pissed if either or both of you do. Anyway. _

_ You’re pretty attached to me, aren’t you, Dia? If you go a day without seeing me, you start to worry. If I start feeling down, you go out of your way to help. _

_ And that’s exactly why I keep those things to myself. If you ever realized how much I’d give up if I knew all three of us could stay together, that would just make you sad. You’d feel like you’re just holding me back, when really, it’s the other way around. You’re too good for me. I know I said it already, but, well. Yeah. _

_ That’s why I’m worried about you. None of us are prepared to graduate, but you especially... _

_ I could never hate you. You couldn’t make a fly hate you. Even if you start ignoring my calls and messages, I couldn’t hate you. _

_ Kanan, I want you to promise you won’t trip and fall flat on your face. I know that you’re completely hopeless without either me or Dia, and that’s exactly why I worry. You see, under that stupid stoner demeanor of yours is a wounded soul who wants to show how much she cares. I can be all over you and you won’t bat an eye, but the second I try and squeeze an ounce of intimacy out of you, you laugh it off. It really, really grinds my gears. _

_ Also, you can be a real jerk, you know that? There’s a damn good reason I put you at the top of the “Most Selfish of All-Time” list earlier in this letter. More like 500 reasons, really. Can you be assed to act out a bit more? To  _ tell _ me what the fuck’s going on in the background? I want it to be in the foreground, goddammit. _

_ I’m honestly more worried about you after we graduate than Dia. Dia can keep herself busy to cope with me being gone. She might overwork herself, sure, but at least she’ll be getting shit done. Important shit. _

_ But you… _

_ You don’t have the best coping mechanisms in the world. What’ll it be this time, hm? Locking yourself in your room for weeks? Throwing yourself into ill-advised relationships or casual hookups? _

_ Yes, I’m calling you out in front of Dia. No, I don’t care. _

_ I still love you, though, stupid idiot that you are. That’s coming from me, the self-proclaimed stupid one. And since you’re useless without me and Dia, I know that I can show up on your doorstep years from now and you’d still fall into my arms all the same. _

_ I’ve already gone on for too long. I’m running out of room here. All I can hope for is that you’ll pour your hearts out into your letters as much as I have. _

_ And I have full faith in both of you. I’ll say it as many times as it takes to get it through your stupid thick skulls: it’s because I love you that much. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mari is an Absolute Icon, i love her so much and i really tried to capture why in this chapter. i've struggled with writing in her voice for a really long time now, and this is my first real attempt at it. so, y'know, i hope you all got some good laughs out of the lines in here (when she's not wrestling with her insecurities or acknowledging that she's meant for different things, i mean)
> 
> thanks as always to Third-Years Expert [Asallia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asallia/pseuds/Asallia) for her amazing feedback and input on this chapter. no one gets the third-years like she does, so having her blessing on this chapter definitely helps my confidence quite a bit lmao  
> as you can tell, i'm saving the best for last with dia. we all know that she can be more than a little sentimental, and in a letter format like this it'll be hard for her to resist just spilling her guts out onto the stationery. figuratively, i mean.
> 
> considering the unique and admittedly terrifying circumstances this year's brought about, i'm curious as to whether this story about graduation takes on a slightly different meaning. i guess if anyone's graduating this year (congrats, by the way!) i'd love to hear your perspective. either way, i hope to see you all soon with the final chapter :)


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